The Ice Queen
by KPfeifferpack
Summary: Cecily Addams gets her vengence on with a bit of help from a straight-talking demon, Anyanka...oh and meanwhile, Marx gives birth to the USSR.
1. Chapter 1

THE ICE QUEEN

Chapter 1: _Of Ice And Men  
>Outside Novodvinsk, Russia - 1895<em>

Cecily was cold, so cold she felt there weren't enough fires in hell itself to ever warm her again. The house should have been closed for the season weeks ago. No one stayed in the country during the winter, unless you had the misfortune to be born a peasant, of course. Actually, Cecily could scarce believe the task had been left to her! Sergi had demanded-yes, demanded-that she stay behind. While serving his purpose, she would also see to the millions of minutiae involved in shifting the household back to St. Petersburg during the long, unbearably cold winter here in the sub-Arctic.

Funny, her many friends in London had been so jealous when Cecily had finally married a man worthy of her beauty and station. Her girlhood dreams of becoming a countess in her home country had come to nothing. That toad Edmund had run off with an actress, leaving Cecily with the embarassment she still felt around those very friends. Her father had been livid. No, not at Edmund for stringing Cecily along, but at his youngest daughter for letting him get away. Daddy could be so harsh, as harsh as a Russian winter.

It had taken her a full five years to finally find a man who impressed even her father. The Archduke Sergi Yevtochenko was an attache to the Russian embassy in London. He had connections to the Romanov house. Of course, that also related him to her Majesty Queen Victoria herself - albeit through the marriage of Victoria's granddaughter to the Czar.

Sergi was a man's man, rugged and a bit rough. He could hunt, drink and rut like a peasant but also be remarkably presentable in court dress. Some of the old Tartar blood, no doubt. The Russians were European, but only JUST. The court had patterned itself on the French since Peter The Great and was civilized enough. "Ah, but that was at court,", thought Cecily, "not here in my fiefdom of ice."

Once you got into the rural areas of her adopted homeland, it was like stepping back centuries. Yes, Sergi DID have all the modern conveniences at their country home, just as they did in St. Petersburg. However, the peasants lived as they had always lived, tied in servitude to the land owner. They were little more than animals, of course, and she and Sergi provided well for those who served them.

Cecily would never forget the first time she saw her husband's ancestral home. She had cried for a week and begged Sergi to take her home to London. The ground here never totally thawed and although there were trees, little else grew. Certainly the love that had been promised to follow her marriage never grew!

The winds coming off the White Sea could be brutal. Nothing you could wear stopped the invasion of death-like cold. All the white-furred weasels in Russia could drape themselves over her and still she'd shiver. Cecily wasn't like these Russian peasant women who could continue their chores even as the Arctic winds blew. She was a delicate English rose; Sergi used to call her that.

They had been married for five years, but the marriage had actually ended soon after the honeymoon. Sergi's tastes were coarse in all things and Cecily was mortified by his crass humor at her expense in front of his friends. The behavior was bad enough, but to be humiliated as well was far too much! Cecily had developed a reputation in London for having a certain coolness in her personality. She had heard the titles they gave her, "Frozen Goddess" and the less flattering "Ice Queen". Now she truly had a kingdom of ice. Her wonderful official title did nothing to keep her warm.

She heartily wished herself that girl again, back home. The men had all taken interest in the Addams' youngest girl and she could have had her pick. Her father had been the one to speak of the desirability of Edmund and his eventual title and lands. She should have entertained the other possibles.

There had been many other men she could have had. They sent flowers and vied to escort her to various gatherings and entertainments. One twit, whose name escaped her, had even written reams of poetry about her many virtues. But _no_, she chose to please Daddy. Well, she had truly, as they say, made her bed and must now lie in it.

She would be glad to get back to St. Petersburg. The city felt European and not nearly so foreign. The climate was warmer as well. At night she could look from her bedroom window to the West and imagine herself sailing across the Gulf of Finland to Helsinki and eventually civilization.

Sergi would scarce notice, so rarely was he at home. Between his duties, his cronies and his mistresses, she rarely saw him. But he was posessive and if she DID leave, he'd follow and carry her back if need be. She was his property, just like all else he owned. Her physical comforts were provided for, but her emotions had atrophied these last years.

She had her own circle of friends. Last year when Nicholas II had ascended the throne as Czar, Cecily found herself a lady-in-waiting of sorts to her Highness the Czarina Alexandra. She maintained all the dignity such an honor required of her, adding to her rather stiff and frigid appearance. Her old friends would not recognize her.

Well, she had best hurry and get this ice cavern closed up tight against the coming winter. She began to long for the weeks to come in polite society. Yes, a ball or two would fix her right up. St. Petersburg was no London, or even Paris, but it would do nicely.

Chapter 2:_ But Still Trim In Figure  
>St. Petersburg, Russia - 1895<em>

After the first four years of marriage with no heir in sight, Sergi had stopped trying. He never came to her rooms anymore. No, she would never speak of the indignity that caused her delay in Novodvinsk. Sergi had gotten one of his servants pregnant over the season and she delivered a fine, fat, healthy son.

Sergi demanded Cecily pass the child off as if _**she**_ had given birth. Announcements had been sent to all the right people and Sergi had his heir at last. He made Cecily stay at the country house, supposedly recovering from the birth, until the child and its mother could travel. The woman would act as wet nurse, among _other_things, Cecily thought bitterly.

There would be a grand Baptism in only four days, and Cecily was eaten up with bitterness. She could not look upon the child without revulsion. It was as well that proper women had little to do with their offspring and she would not be considered strange for her lack of affection. She would have to watch herself around the Czarina, of course. Alexandra was looking forward to having offspring. She planned to enjoy time with her children and wanted several. The Czarina would expect Cecily to be delighted to have finally produced so fine a son.

The child was to be named Mikhail Ivanovich Yevtochenko with all the titles and honors his supposed birth entitled him to hold. Cecily couldn't wait 'til he was weaned so she could ship that robust, fertile farm girl off to some distant holding before she had a chance to present Sergi with any more 'heirs'!

Perhaps Cecily could turn the boy against his father in time. That would be sweet revenge indeed if the boy doted on _her_ and despised his_true _blood kin. It would not be too hard to accomplish. She merely had to be sure Misha was witness to Sergi's treatment of her and saw her understandable tears of pain at the cruelties she had to endure. Yes, she began to envision an entirely **new** way to fill her hours. She was going to be _such_a wonderful mother, she thought as she grinned wickedly.

_Meanwhile, in the darkened halls of another kingdom … another dimension, ears perked up and a message was sent to Lord D'Hoffryn of a possible addition in the making to their ranks in the army of vengence. __**This**__ one would bear watching...but so few lived up to the full promise._

Cecily had thought to take a lover, maybe even turn up an "heir" of her own that Sergi could scarce deny without embarassing himself. That would, however, require her actually letting another pig of a man touch her. No, the new plan was far better.

Sergi would be busy for a while as he was a key investigator of a group calling itself St. Petersburg Union For The Struggle For The Emancipation Of The Working Class. It was a subversive group led by a man named Vladimir Ulyanov and his fiancee Nadezhda Krupskaya and was based on ideas penned by that German troublemaker Karl Marx. Once enough proof could be gathered, the lot of them would be "enjoying" the Siberian winters.

There was far too much social unrest since Russia had entered the industrial age. There had been efforts in the past to overthrow the government and harsh measures had to be taken to prevent social collapse. The first Nicholas had campaigned especially against liberal ideas, in education especially, in an effort to prevent Russia joining Europe in revolution. He had only succeeded in slowing the ever nearing changes. Years of war and a people tiring of near slavery and starvation were too perfect a breeding ground for new philosophies, such as Karl Marx's, to bloom forth. It didn't help to have such a vast gulf in lifestyles between the privileged and the working classes.

Cecily gave little thought to such matters. She scarcely noticed the dissatisfaction of the masses surrounding her, so deep was she in her own sea of unhappiness.

She sorted through her jewel box for just the right set of rubies that would breathe fire to her ice. Her gown had been fashioned from patterns sent to her seamstress from Paris and were completely up-to-date. The materials were rich silks from the Orient and lace tatted in Belgium to her own design. Tonight was the first social engagement for Cecily since she and her new "son" had returned home.

Her maid had exclaimed over and over at how trim Cecily's figure was so soon after giving birth. All the ladies of the court would surely be envious. Cecily heartily hoped so.

Prince Georgy Yevgenyevich Lvov was going to be hosting this party and Sergi planned to ask him to honor Misha by agreeing to become the boy's godfather. Cecily saw no reason not to ask the Czarina herself to stand as godmother. Yes, her Daddy would be quite proud indeed.

Esme, her elder sister, had not done nearly as well, having married a young, handsome ship builder and promptly producing one child after another. Why, when Cecily last saw her she was quite plump and shamelessly giddy with marital bliss! Very common, but then she always had been. That was why father had counted on her to be the proper one. She hadn't let him down.

Chapter 3: _The Christening  
>Saint Petersburg - 1895<em>

The morning of the christening arrived bright and surprisingly warm this close to actual winter. Sergi exclaimed it was a sign from God about his son's bright future. He was full of himself this morning. He had an heir anyone could be proud of, probably healthier than most owing to the boy's secret peasant bloodline.

His wife looked stunning, as usual. In claret-colored velvet and fur, she nearly outshone Her Imperial Majesty herself. Cecily had easily convinced the Czarina to be the boy's godmother. But really, how could anyone resist the sweet gurgles and rosy, chubby cheeks of his boy? Certainly Cecily could not; look at how she had begun to positively dote on Misha. Sergi began to wonder if his wife was beginning to develop enough warmth to extend even to himself.

He had tried, God, how he had tried. The bitch just had no idea how to be anything but a dress-up doll. All pretty and feminine on the outside, but hard, unyielding and cold to the touch. She thought his turning from her was caused by her failure to produce a child. No, he was not so backward as that! Russian nights were cold enough without trying to cuddle with ice sculpture. She had frozen him out.

She had hated lovemaking from the start. The first time, he understood. Many women could not enjoy the first time because of the pain. Cecily, however, NEVER came to enjoy it. She didn't even enjoy his company_out _of the bed, for that matter.

He tried every tenderness he knew and in time, and in desperation, had even sought out new techniques. He, Sergi Yevtochenko, who had never wanted for a woman since the age of thirteen, had actually PAID for those new skills. He had engaged the services of a highly touted courtesan, French at that. He asked for every trick she could show him to bring pleasure to his English rose.

Before, Cecily had lain stiff as lumber with tightly closed eyes, waiting for him to finish. When Sergi used the new weapons in his arsenal, she had fled from the bed and was sick in the chamber pot! What man could live like that?

He released her from any duty involving physical touch from that night onward and sought his pleasure elsewhere. Other women welcomed his touch, his skills...they always had!

She was a good and dutiful wife in other regards. She managed the households well, handled the servants with authority. She entertained beautifully and was always well turned out...the top of fashion. Always beautiful, his china doll. His friends still envied him. Of course, they did not know how things were with them.

The little dairymaid Galina had been a pleasant armful of passion. Sergi had been alarmed, at first, when she told him he had fathered a child on her. She, of course, knew her place and expected nothing from him. She had been stunned when he said the child would be claimed by him as his own. Galina cried a bit when he went on to explain that it would be passed off as the child of his wife, however. He had kissed away her tears and settled a generous amount of rubles on her to ease the parting. Once the wet nurse was no longer needed, she would go back North to the dairy farm of her family and forget all about the child she had borne him.

It had not taken Sergi long to realize that this babe could solve many problems for him, and Cecily as well. After all, what woman did not want a child? Now she could have one without the need to do the very things she despised in order to have it. And he, well, he would have his heir, his legacy. He merely needed to lay out the plan and remain firm with his wife. The husband always knew what was best, she would see in time.

Today, Sergi could see that he had been right to insist on this course of action. Just look at how Cecily glowed with happiness. See the eyes, bright with joy as she looked at "her" son. Yes, life was looking up. She even had a curious look in her eye as she looked at him! He would have to find out what that could mean.

Ezra Addams was pleased to see his Cecily looking so robust. The news that he was a grandfather again, this time through Cecily, was unexpected. She had not told him she was in an ...um...interesting condition. Cecily explained that they had not wished him to make the long trip until they knew all would be well. It had taken a long time to produce this child. Why, Esme and her husband had a set of twins a mere eleven months after their wedding! Ezra had begun to wonder if Esmerelda had inherited all the fertility in the family, bypassing Cecily totally. Now his new grandson proved his worries unfounded.

Healthy child, looked like his father though. Try as he might, Ezra could see no hint of Cecily, none of the Addams traits, in the babe. Well, no matter, his daughter and son-in-law were pleased and the boy was healthy.

Yes, Cecily had done well. She had married as close to royalty as one could hope. Her husband had vast interests in Russia, England and Europe as well as areas in Asia...quite wealthy indeed. Why, his grandson...Misha, was it?...had Her Imperial Majesty the Czarina of All the Russias for a godmother. His own Queen Victoria's granddaughter was a godmother to one of his grandchildren! How many men of his circle could claim that connection? The godfather, Prince Lvov, was wealthy as Midas and a royal to boot. Yes, Sergi was much better than that lack-wit Edmund and being a Grand Duchess was much better for his Cecily than a mere Countess.

Ezra was a bit surprised to see the attention Cecily lavished on little Michael, as he chose to call his grandson. She had always seemed a trifle chilly to her father. Her marriage and this climate must agree with her, he thought. She was almost unseemly in her obvious affection for the child! He would have to speak to her about this not-so-ladylike behavior.

He would also have to remind his daughter that she must not put aside conventions by actually acting as nurse to her own child. Why, the laughter would be heard as far away as London! Servants always gossiped and such a tale of unnatural behavior in a Lady would surely spread beyond the servants' quarters. At least the child's godmother seemed to approve of Cecily's unusual doting, so perhaps he had no cause for alarm. After all, Queen Victoria's granddaughter would not approve any inappropriate behavior in one of her ladies in waiting. Good, he really had not wanted to have THAT talk with his daughter.

There were times when he missed the girls' mother, noticed that she had passed from his life. The night before Cecily wed had been the last occasion he had that feeling thrust upon him. He had to prepare the girl in some way for her wifely duties. His own mother had insisted that he be the good parent and do so, refusing to do it herself, woman to woman. He'd kept it simple, telling Cecily only to lie still, not shift about too much, and let her husband have his way, he would know what to do. Not to worry, it would be over before she knew it. He had been as red-faced as any drunken Irishman, he was sure, but a father had his responsibilities!

Today Cecily was radiant. She had never looked better and hadn't been so excited about her future in years. Now that she had determined a course of action, a way of paying back Sergi for his...his...his, well, for being Sergi, she was practically leaping from the bed each morning in eager anticipation.

At first, The baby had been frightened of her, this strange, new adult invading his space. The child had come around in time and was now, only three days since her plan commenced, actually crying when removed from her presence! Males must begin to cling to females from the very start, she thought. Perhaps she would work on making a mamma's boy of him. Sergi would hate that!

The Czarina had confided in Cecily that she too was to finally be a mother. This sorority of motherhood strengthened Cecily's position at court. There seemed to be only positives happening now that she had started to lay the groundwork for her grand revenge.

She looked over at her father, who had traveled all the way from London for this day. There had to be some way of making HIM pay as well! He had practically sold her at market as you would a horse. All those years of withholding love and praise unless she performed exactly to his desires. He'd made his wishes clear and had still been stinting in his affections even though Cecily had not only fulfilled his desires, but surpassed them. And they compared HER to ice! Nothing she did was ever enough for any of them!

Esmerelda had been plain-looking and Daddy's hopes were not that high for her. Also, Esme didn't seem to care as much about Daddy's approval. Since she rarely got it, she rarely sought it. Cecily craved it like food or air. She felt starved and breathless most of her life. She was OWED!

HE should know, for once, what it felt like. To want to feel secure and loved, only to be met with more expectations and demands. He had made her feel so worthless when Edmund eloped with that actress.

She had spent five years trying to regain his favor, begging for his approval and love. Now, five years beyond that, he still looked at her with some small disapproving glint in his eye. What had she done wrong now? What was she lacking?

What more did she have to do to please her father at last? She had married a man HE chose, presented a grandchild to him at great personal cost, tolerated life in a barely civilized country where even those on the throne spoke English poorly. She endured a cold climate and lack of affection from all the males in her life. Did this please Daddy? NO, nothing she did seemed to please him fully. She was always just_this_short of worthy to him. He REALLY should know how that felt!

Well, if her vengence on Sergi worked as well as it seemed it might, she might be able to come up with a suitable revenge on Daddy, too.

"How happy dear Cecily is today,", remarked the Czarina. "See the bright smile she just lavished on her husband and father!"

_Meanwhile, in Arashmaharr, another update was rushed to D'Hoffryn, the patron of unhappy women. This transplanted English girl was showing very real potential. She KNEW well what she was entertaining yet embraced it fully! Not for her was some random, emotional, spontaneous reaction to hurt pride! NOOO, she was enjoying, savoring, planning. Perhaps, in time, she should be sent some encouragement…maybe an advisor._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 4: _Fateful Meetings  
>Saint Petersburg - 1901<em>

Sergi and Cecily were enjoying a rare night out alone together. He had arranged a private table for dinner at one of the fashionable gypsy resturants that had seemingly sprung up overnight all over Saint Petersburg. This one, _'Magda's'_, was the current favorite of the elite. It was always filled with the cream of Russian society.

Sergi was celebrating this night. Six years before, he had been responsible for gathering information that had led to the successful exile of a dangerous revolutionary and his cohorts. Now Ulyanov had returned and gone underground. Sergi felt this Marxist zealot was an even greater threat now than before his exile.

Sergi's men had reported, just this morning, that he had been located. The rabble rouser had changed his name, but not his interests or associates. Sergi had sent men to persuade this Lenin, as he now called himself, to join those of his associates...away from Mother Russia.

Two of those associates were publishing a worthless waste of ink called ISKRA in an attempt to fan the flames of discontent among the masses. After Sergi's men finished, it seemed "Lenin" would be joining his comrades Trotsky and Plekhanov in producing a paper that could only interest peasants too illiterate to ever read it.

He should be grateful for exile and anonymity, unlike his elder brother, who had been hung for his part in plotting at assasinate the previous Czar, Alexander III. Yes, Sergi thought, that is the last we will be hearing from Mr. Ulyanov...er...Lenin. He raised his glass towards his lovely English wife and drank to the bright days ahead.

Cecily was celebrating this night as well. Her plans, made when Misha was still a squalling infant, were working out beautifully. Misha avoided his father, hiding if possible when left in a room with Sergi. He trembled in fright at the thought of any outing alone with Sergi. Misha only displayed courage when "protecting" his beloved mother from his monster of a father. Tonight he had wept to the point of throwing up at the realization that his mamma would be alone with his father and not have anyone to protect her from Sergi's temper.

Cecily would be sure to say or do _something_ to cause Sergi to yell or display his volatile emotions as they entered their home tonight. She knew little Misha would be up and watching through his window for their return. She must be sure to have her eyes brimming with unshed tears and the slight tremble she had perfected over the years when she went to his room to tuck in her precious "young knight". Cecily had it all down to an art by now. Perhaps one day Misha might just have to **kill**his father to protect his poor, abused mother! Cecily smiled sweetly to Sergi and raised her glass in response to his.

Magda, for whom the resturant was named, watched the glittering couple with interest. Her hereditary second sight was tingling as it had not in years. Here was a tragedy in the making to rival some of the grand operas so favored by the Russian nobility. Well, Magda might just have a trinket to sell the pretty lady. What was it to an old gypsy woman what two overdressed, overfed parasites did to one another? Yes, Magda smelled a sale in the making.

Magda Adzovic was riding the wave of the latest fashion to hit Saint Petersburg- spiritualism. Fortune telling, gypsy resturants and all things mystical had taken hold of the imagination of the elite and rubles were changing hands with lightening speed. Her clan had come a long way in the last fifty years. Up from actual slavery in Romania to the mind-spinning freedom of Russia. The Romani had been treated like any other peasant citizens in Czarist Russia and the Adzovic clan had positively flourished with this latest craze. Perhaps the pretty English lady would care to further increase the clan's treasure chest. You never knew when the welcome mat would be pulled from under you when you belonged to a gypsy clan and the more kopeks, the easier the move!

The glittering, bejeweled couple had caught the eye of another diner. Lord D'Hoffryn had studied the lovely Duchess Yevtochenko closely before deciding which of his girls would best befriend her and encourage Cecily's obsession with revenge. So much bitterness needed proper cultivation, a friend to help the English woman channel all that wonderful negative energy into a life-changing career move. Anyanka would be the perfect friend for Cecily. All that was needed was a proper meeting. Tonight was looking like it might be the right time for the start of a long friendship, the beginning of a sisterhood of sorts.

Anyanka studied the woman as she savored her dinner course. Cecily's husband seemed to be the standard variety lout that Anyanka had hundreds of years experience punishing. Well, that was not her job this time. She was here to befriend and recruit this Cecily to the house of Arashmaharr, a sisterhood of vengence demons. The English woman was already a far way across the bridge between light and dark forces and only needed a slight push to fully embrace the darkness and make it her home as once Anyanka had done.

Cecily missed her old life in England. That was obvious to anyone watching her for any length of time. Anyanka had already decided the best entree to Cecily's small circle of friends was to pose as a fellow Brit exiled through marriage to the cold North. To that end, Anyanka had established herself at a fashionable address and rechristened herself Ann Harrison, supposed wife of a British importer who left her alone for many a long stretch of time. Anyanka had been skirting the edges of high society for months now and had moved ever closer to tonight's fateful meeting.

It had taken Anyanka two weeks from the last time she had seen Cecily at the Imperial Grand Ball to have a duplicate of Cecily's fan made. Now was the time for "Ann Harrison" to return this "lost" item to its rightful owner.

Firmly clasping the ivory fan, so delicately carved in an Arabian nights motif, Anyanka or– rather, Ann, approached the table of the Archdukeuke and his Duchess.

"Please forgive the intrusion, Your Graces"' interrupted the lovely, slim vengence demon. "You most likely don't remember meeting me at the Winter Palace, there were so many people at the ball," she began as an introduction. "I was behind you at the buffet for the midnight supper," she continued. "My husband represents a major importer of fine furs to England and Her Imperial Magesty was kind enough to take pity on a lonely Englishwoman left to her own devices in St. Petersburg." "Ann" laughed lightly but made sure her eyes reflected the proper sadness of a woman deserted.

"I don't mean to presume, but I believe I have something of yours that you must have mislaid that night," she offered. Anyanka held out the lovely fan to Cecily and said, "I found it in the powder room and recognized it as the one you carried in the dinner room.". Anyanka saw the look of recognition as Cecily examined the fan she had laid in her outstretched hand. "I tried to find you and return it that night, but I was told that you had already left," "Ann" said in explanation.

Cecily did not remember losing the fan but recognized it as one of her favorites. She thanked the young woman for returning it to her. After a short conversation, it was decided that Mrs. Harrison should come to the Yevtochenko home the next day for a proper English tea and some conversation between countrywomen abroad. There seemed to be so much the ladies had in common and a face from home was just the thing to perk up Cecily. No matter how many years Cecily lived in Russia, she would never be Russian.

The next interruption of the evening came in the form of the elderly, wizened gypsy woman who moved from table to table offering greetings to her guests in this resturant owned and run by her husband, Bora.

Magda made sure all their customers were well satisfied with their dining experience. After all, there was much competition for their trade and the kopeks went to those who best pleased.

Magda took the opportunity to approach the Grand Duchess while Sergi was engaged in a discussion with the waiter comparing the merits of the offered dessert wines.

"The lovely lady is enjoying her meal, yes?", inquired Magda. "But it seems the lady is not enjoying _life_ quite so much, eh?", she continued. "So sad having unfulfilled needs when one does not _have_to be deprived.", Magda stated with a look that spoke of secret knowledge.

Cecily laughed to herself and wondered when the old gypsy would come up with the standard line of "cross my palm with silver and I shall tell you your future." Those words were never said, however.

Magda looked deeply into Cecily's eyes and spoke straight to her soul. "You look as though you have all that one could want, but instead you feel only cold and empty. There is a need in you that perhaps a bit of magic could fill," Magda said in her most tempting tone. "There is a stone that has been in my clan for many a year. Its color nearly matches your eyes. It is said that when one with eyes like the stone posesses it that it can cause the stone's mystical properties to be revealed. They say," Magda's voice lowered to a near whisper, "it can make the two deepest desires of the one who owns it come true." Magda looked deep into Cecily's eyes and saw the answering glimmer of unexpressed desire deep within them.

Magda offered the stone for Cecily to hold, fondle, perhaps even dream a bit. Yes, the fish had the hook and now to reel it in. "For only fifty kopeks, that lucky owner could be you, Your Grace." She set the hook and made the sale. Ah, what a night. Magda sold a stone with minor power for five times its worth!

Cecily had a head filled with dreams and plans, as well as a new friend in Mrs. Harrison. A lovely night all around. As they rode home in silence, Cecily smiled to herself with her secrets. Misha would be so comforting when she performed her show upon arriving home and Sergi, the dupe, would be left looking a wildman once again. Nights like tonight were to be savored.

She knew she would be too excited to sleep this night. Sergi would most likely head to the arms of his latest mistress after his son inevitably rejected his father's attentions. Cecily had so many desires to distill down to only two. She would wait a while to test the powers of her magic stone. She knew the story was true; she had felt the power when the old gypsy handed the stone to her in the resturant. It would work.

Tonight she would curl up with the current popular novel "Sanin", and immerse herself in the story of a self-indulgent young man that was all the fashion of the moment. Perhaps Mrs. Harrison would have the current popular novels from England here in Russia with her. Cecily would ask her tomorrow at tea. She sensed a kindred spirit in Ann.

"Ann", meanwhile, was accepting praise from her patron D'Hoffryn. Anyanka felt certain there were other women she could help out while on her recruitment mission to Saint Petersburg. Bad men seemed to turn up everywhere and there was no end to the numbers of women needing help that only Anyanka could offer.

Chapter 5 - _Christmas Is The Time For Giving  
>Saint Petersburg, Christmastime, 1901<em>

Sergi's patience was at an end. Here he was in what should be the bosom of his family during the very time of year that families drew together. Instead, that hellcat he married had once more put on grand theater that entertained no one and brought out the beast in himself. Even his oldest servants looked at him as if he had become an ogre or some horrid beast from mythology! His own current lover even sided with her mistress this time. Well, that's what he should expect in choosing his wife's seamstress for his bed warmer! There was just no pleasing ANY of them.

His own heir despised and distrusted him. He had tried over the last few years to be the kind of father to Misha that he had always wanted in his own father. The boy was so much like Cecily that Sergi sometimes forgot that he had been born to that milkmaid from the Dacha in Novovinsk. He had been so hopeful when Cecily had agreed to raise the boy as her own. Now he realized he should have just given the lad poison directly.

He had received a curt thank you from the boy when he presented Misha with his gift. The fine, beautiful white horse had been bred fully Arabian and trained by the finest Cossack horseman that Sergi could hire. The saddle, bridle and tack were of the finest, fit for the Czar himself. Yet all his time and trouble were rewarded with only a quick and quiet "thank you", not even a "father" or "pappa" on the end of it either! Oh, but for his mother's gift, a fine new suit in deep blue velvet,the boy didn't have enough words to finish thanking his _dear mamma_.

The suit had been sewn by Sergi's own mistress, for the love of the Almighty! Sergi felt hurt and betrayed by them all. The boy had positively gushed with glee upon seeing his other gifts: new boots from London from his grandfather, a model sail boat that truly sailed from his aunt and uncle in England, a fine sled from Sergi's own mother and a box of tin soldiers dressed in the style of the late Crimean war from Sergi's brother Constantine. But to his father, Misha only could choke out a brisk "thank you." It was past time Sergi took matters, and the boy, in hand. He would need to regain his place as respected head of the family, and soon.

As for the frigid bitch he had once adored, he huffed, well, he had **never**known how to please that one. No man could, he was convinced. She had managed to turn his son against him, she had even managed to make Sergi's own mother and brother look at him in disapproval. No wonder she was cold all the time, she must have originated in hell itself! The devil had spewed her out when she had exhausted his patience and left her for poor, cursed Sergi Yevtochenko to stumble upon. Was not the very core of hell rumored to be solid ice? He needed no sermons to convince him of the realities of hell, he was married to its spawn!

Sergi had gone to considerable trouble for her gift, too. He had driven that Prussian Jew crazy in his demand that every diamond in the set be as perfect and perfectly matched as could be found on this earth. A tiara to rival those worn at court with a necklace as exquisite as fine lace, earbobs that caught the light and made colors dance...all perfect. The bitch had found them "very nice, thank you" in a tone of voice one would use in admiring a shine put on one's boots by a servant.

Cecily was admiring herself in the heavy gilt mirror. The new jewels were spectacular with fire that only came from the best of gems. Yes, Sergi provided nicely all the small comforts a woman could want. If he were only more civilized, more cultured, less of a rutting animal led about by his...parts. She blushed brightly at the thought.

Today had been PERFECT, lots of lovely new toys and an entire household upset with Sergi. Cecily fought the urge to sing a happy tune when she remembered that she was supposed to be suffering from a headache brought on by her brute of a husband and his temper. No, singing would not work in her favor and things were going along far too well to get careless now.

Sergi, of course, had not the intellect to perceive the premeditation in his wife's behavior. She intended to keep it that way.

It had been her delightful new friend Ann who had suggested she fill Misha with visions of dread regarding his horsemanship skills. She had discovered the details of Sergi's planned gift and began to undermine any joy the gift might have given to his only son and heir. She had dropped hints that Sergi thought Misha too young and too poor a rider. She "worried" that Sergi would try to force a mount that would be far above a young boy's ability to control. She wept in fear for her tender son and how he would either be killed or maimed by the horse or, at the very least, anger his father by being unable to control the animal.

She made sure Misha knew nothing of the amount of care that had been taken to ensure a horse that could be controlled by the smallest of movements or commands from its young rider. The Cossacks were the best horsemen in the world and not for his life would Sergi risk his only son on a horse not under full control.

No, Misha only saw a large, intimidating animal fully decked out and led by a rather rough and frightening man in the traditional costume of his people. Naturally, Misha was terrified.

Mrs. Harrison proved a sympathetic and helpful friend indeed. In the last few months since their happy meeting, Cecily had found someone who totally understood her pain. Someone who was non-judgmental about Cecily's desire for revenge. Indeed, Ann had _many_a suggestion that had been splendid in furthering Cecily's cause.

Each night, Cecily took out the magic stone and held it to her breast. Two desires to fulfill, two wishes to be granted. She wanted to be SURE of what she asked of it. After all, there were only two wishes.

Sergi entered Cecily's bedchamber in a rage. He had been drinking and wallowing in his already bad mood. It was time, by God, to be the MAN of the house. Changes were coming if it was the last thing he ever did on this earth. Servants scattered like frightened insects at his approach and the household seemed to hold its collective breath in anticipation of the storm to come.

Cecily was startled to the point of genuine fear. She had been pretending to fear him for so long now that the actual emotion quite took her by surprise.

"This is the end, Cecily," he bellowed. Oh God, was he going to divorce her? That would ruin all her plans as well as her reputation! "I will no longer permit you to enact your many melodramas and cause me to feel like some peasant cattle herder in my own home." He was yelling quite dramatically now. Cecily let out the breath she had been holding since the first fear hit her at the thought of divorce. Sergi was merely going to flex his manhood. Nothing to worry over then, she thought and held the stone more tightly in her fist.

"Yes, things are going to change and I am not open to any discussion on this," he sputtered. Cecily, realizing there was a vast unseen audience for this show, quickly remembered her role of terrified, fragile wife. "Sergi, you have been drinking and it is late. Perhaps in the morning we could discuss whatever is bothering you," she offered, knowing full well that he was past the point of reason. She should know, she had driven him to this point quite carefully and relentlessly.

"Sergi, please, you'll waken Misha and you know how your temper frightens him so." She made her voice choke back a sob on those last few words, actually stammering a bit on the word "frightens". Yes, her money would be on Sergi being an outcast even to his own mother by the end of _this_performance. What a lovely Christmas gift he was giving to her. And so unexpected as well, she hoped she'd not miss any opportunity it presented. She generally preferred to rehearse a bit before a scene.

"God, woman, I have spent an unbelievable amount of time and effort over the years in trying to please you," he growled. "I have lost my own son's affection and respect in the process," he declared, stating the obvious. "You are the most unfeeling, unnatural woman that I have ever had the misfortune to meet," Sergi snarled. "The men in my family have always held the respect and LOVE of their women...until you, you viper!" He was warming to the subject now. "I WILL be respected," was his demand. "I WILL be in charge of my own household, and I WILL be obeyed." His voice was nearly rattling the windows by this last demand. "Don't worry, Cecily, I don't want to sleep with you. You are so cold a man would die in your embrace. I'd rather sleep in the arms of an ice sculpture than so much as touch you again. But I will be obeyed nonetheless," he finished.

Cecily felt a rush of fury at his rejection being put into words. True, she did not want him...but she damn sure wanted him to WANT HER! He blamed the gulf between them on HER? This oaf, this lout, this rough, drunken, swaggering barbarian blamed HER? He thought her cold, well, he should find out what cold REALLY felt like! "I'm cold, I'M cold?". she snapped at him, showing more fire than he'd ever seen her display. "You do not have any idea what cold is, you bastard. Cold is Novodvinsk in the winter waiting the birth of YOUR child. Cold is the promised summer estate you neglected to mention came complete with polar bears and ice floes. Cold is this entire blasted country," Cecily flung at him, feeling an anger beyond thinking.

"I'd almost think you capable of passion with this display, wife," said Sergi calmly, "but you are as you were called back in London...the Ice Queen."

Cecily snapped at that.

"I wish all of you high and mighty Yevtochecko men would encounter TRUE ice, true cold. It should freeze the life out of you all. End the line of titled, dressed-up barbarians here and now!" she cried.

Cecily felt a warm sensation in her left hand and would have sworn the stone actually moved. She instantly realized she may have squandered one of her precious wishes just now in her anger.

Cecily desperately tried to recall her exact words but was unable to do so. "Oh dear God, what have I done?" she wondered softly.

She didn't regret having wished Sergi ill, the troll deserved it. No, she just didn't want to waste good magic destroying him. She was doing quite well at that on her own. Magic should be for things beyond Cecily's capability. He would have to push her too far when she was holding the stone in her hand! Well, if anything DID happen to Sergi, it was his own fault.

Cecily made certain her anguished tears would be heard by the invisible audience then sunk into a stage-perfect swoon. Sergi, having had quite enough theatrics, stepped over her limp body and slammed the door behind him.

Down the hall, Misha wept and vowed to somehow save his mother from the awful man who was his father.

_In the halls of Arashmaharr, a party of sorts broke out. Soon the vacant seat would be filled, soon a new sister would be given power and an amulet and a new name. Soon the dark lords would drink the wine of human misery and vengeance and grow drunk on its power. Soon._

Chapter 6 - _Those Who Don't Learn From History...  
>Yevtochenko Dacha, Novodvinsk, Summer, 1904<em>

Cecily sat peering at the distant bay, trying to decide what she should do. Misha was nine years old now and she had come to truly love the boy in the years since Sergi had died. The accident, so swift in coming after the New Year of 1902, had left his widow and son well fixed materially but socially isolated in many ways.

No one blamed her for Sergi's death. Who could have predicted his fall, followed by the large, heavy icicle falling at just that moment, plunging through his chest and into his heart? He died instantly with little pain, the doctor had assured his shocked widow.

So many of Cecily's social circle had really been connections of Sergi's. She was still considered the foreign wife and a bit off-putting. After the mourning period passed, a few invitations began to arrive. None, however, on the scale or strata she had experienced as a wife instead of widow.

The Czarina had been too busy with her young family and her fears for her fragile son's health to give much thought to her former lady in waiting. Alexandra HAD sent an invitation for both Cecily and Misha to join the royal family on their annual cruise on the _"Standart"_in March. That good lady had even invited them for a fortnight's stay at Czarskoe Selo, the Summer Palace, that first year. Misha had played with the young Imperial Duchesses on the children's island in the lake and had laughed for the first time since his father had died. Still, Cecily found her status in society lowered with the death of Sergi.

Her own family had, of course, suggested that Cecily and Misha move back to London. Cecily had nearly done so when the second horrible tragedy shook the Yevtochenko family.

Sergi's young brother Constantine fell through the ice on a pond on his estate. No one noticed him missing until he had drowned under the ice that was much thinner than it had appeared to be.

Then Cecily had had to wait out THAT period of mourning as well and only now could look at all of her options freely.

They would not be staying with her father if they DID move back. As always, he had no concern for Cecily beyond her usefullness to him. She was still not quite good enough to have earned his approval and love.

Esme and her brood would welcome them, of course, but they stayed in the country most of the year. No, Cecily did NOT fancy being the widowed sister-in-law of a country squire in a small town in Devon. Not when there were ample funds for a lovely town home in London and a proper boarding school for Misha.

Her father would not object, he was too busy trying to further his pursuit of a wealthy, widowed Viscountess. He had dreams of elevating his consequence, feathering his bank accounts and acquiring a bit of power with a run for a seat in the Commons backed by his intended's cache. He was spending large sums of his own money in courtship of the Lady in question.

Ezra had far too much to do to be fussing over a nearly forgotten daughter and her half-foreign son. His head swam with an upgrade from a mere barony to something more befitting. Baron Underwood paled before what _might _be with a proper connection, an entree with those who held the power of elevating one to their proper place.

He had not, of course, said those ACTUAL words. But after all these years, Cecily was quite able to read between the lines of her father's infrequent letters. He had been the one to suggest their staying with Esme in Devon when Cecily had written of her possible return to England.

Her dearest, truest, friend Ann Harrison had joined them here in the Arctic summer. Cecily had confided her sorrows regarding her father's lack of affection and Ann was the soul of sympathy. She had never once indicated that she felt Cecily should just accept the way her Daddy was and go on. No, Ann understood how Cecily's father was the crux of all her pain and sorrow, all her poor choices.

Dear Ann who had never deserted Cecily, even when her own husband had left her and left Russia! Cecily wished she had met the man at some point. She would have loved to give him a piece of her mind for his treatment of lovely Ann. Cecily instantly invited Ann to move in with her and they were now as close as sisters. Certainly closer than she and Esme had ever been.

Now they needed to decide what they wanted to do, where they wanted to live, how they wished to live. Cecily still hated Russia but could not deny the advantage of living as a noble in a country that still conducted itself with near medieval societal structures, a land where one's every wish could be catered to by masses of eager, starving peasants. Well, they complained of starving anyway. "Hard work led to full stomaches," as Sergi used to say!

She really wanted Misha to have the best of educations. He was, after all, the Grand Duke now. He MUST be prepared to take his place one day and do so with authority.

She longed to have him educated in the finest of British schools, his manners polished in the best of London society. Yes, a move might be for the best.

She could send Misha ahead when school started for the next term, tidy affairs here then she and Ann could head to civilization, go home.

Anyanka was puzzled. She felt sure D'Hoffryn would approach Cecily soon after that wonderful vengefull wish that had claimed Sergi's life. When he did not come, Anyanka was mystified. With the second Yevtochenko man dying so soon after, also by ice, Anyanka was certain it was the wish Cecily had made and not just coincidence. Still D'Hoffryn waited, telling Anyanka only to continue to stay close at hand.

Anyanka had granted a wish or two during her time in Saint Petersburg. There were always wronged women and they were her specialty, of course. In fact, just this past week Anyanka had come upon a young woman, a lady's maid at a neighboring estate, crying her poor heart out. She had been led a merry dance by the children's tutor, given him her heart and the comfort of her bed. She had foolishly expected him to marry her in time. He was but a servant, too, after all.

He had been livid to find her pregnant and expecting him to wed her. He had reminded the little maid that while a servant, he was of _good_blood and it was unthinkable that he would marry such as her. Besides, she was a loose woman to let a man sleep with her, BE with her without marriage. Who knew if he were the only one and the child his?

The poor girl was in shock, filled with grief and remorse. She even contemplated aborting the baby and ending her own life. Anyanka offered solace, sympathy and gently led her to another solution. Now all she had to do was formulate the wording of her wish and justice could be done.

Anyanka knew the REAL problem, aside from the obvious one that all men are pigs. This feudal system where people placed themselves in high positions based on birth, not hard work. Where peasants worked and starved and froze only to be tossed aside like the little maid. Meanwhile the idle rich grew fatter and more callous daily. Yes, Anyanka knew what the little maid truly wished. She only hoped the girl had the good sense to phrase it properly when the time came. THIS could be Anyanka's finest moment as a vengence demon!

Cecily went to bed more depressed than she could ever remember. Ann had commiserated over Ezra's continued coldness towards his daughter and grandson. Somehow talking about it only made it hurt more this time.

Cecily idly played with the stone she purchased from the gypsy all those years ago. She still had the habit of holding it at night as she thought of all the things she MIGHT yet wish for. This practice usually led to pleasant dreams where Cecily was loved and happy and home.

Tonight she could only think of her father and how he had never shown her one ounce of real affection. How he had known the hurt he caused. How he had withdrawn from her when she displeased him. How NOTHING she had ever done had won his approval for long.

He should be on the receiving end of THAT for a change, she thought. "I just wish father would know what it is like to always come up short. To always be left wanting more and have those around you withhold what you crave the most," she spoke aloud. Cecily did not even realize she HAD spoken aloud until she felt the same odd sensation from the gypsy rock ...heat and movement.

Good grief, what had she done now? "Oh, please don't let me be out of wishes!"

Suddenly before her stood a man. No, not a man. A man-like being with strangely pointed ears and horns on his hairless grey head. He had piercing eyes and a wispy beard. He called her by an odd name. Clearly he was addressing her as she was quite alone when he appeared with a poof before her. He introduced himself as a Lord D'Hoffryn from a kingdom he called Arashmaharr, wherever that was. He said that she was Halfrek and they had been waiting for her for a long, long while.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 7 - _A Revolting Prospect  
>Saint Petersburg, 1905<em>

1905 had started badly for everyone in Russia but nowhere was it worse than in Saint Petersburg. In January, the revolutionary priest Gapon dared to lead a march to the Winter Palace to present demands for government reform. One of the demands was for a Duma, where the people would have some say in their governing. He and his followers had been killed by the hundreds by the Imperial Guards. Since then, all the industrial cities in Russia had suffered from workers' strikes and riots. The unpopular war against Japan was going badly, adding to the already teeming cauldron of social unrest.

Cecily (Halfrek to her new overlords, or "Hallie" as she preferred) was so glad she had sent Misha to England and protected him from the dangers that seemed to grow every day. She was a vengeance demon now, true, but even her powers had limits.

Her old friend Ann Harrison, now revealed to be Anyanka, a sister in vengence, had already wrecked havoc. She had used a wish from a wronged servant girl in Novodvinsk to light the match that set off the fuse leading to the current revolution. The order of Arashmaharr had tremendous power to wield. Vengeance ITSELF had power that was often hard to contain. It was always harder to put back a Djini into the bottle than to release it.

Cecily thought back to her gypsy rock and the two fateful wishes she had available to her and the results of her using them, however undeliberately.

The Yevtochenko men were all dead now. In a twisted piece of irony only Cecily could fully appreciate, all had died in some way involving ice. Even the sorcerer Rasputin had remarked on the strangeness of all those separate freak accidents that had suddenly befallen the once great family.

Rasputin was yet another of Anyanka's wishes in the making. An uneducated peasant, most likely not fully sane, he had rutted about the countryside, openly unfaithful to his spouse. It was said that she did not mind, but Anyanka had shared with her friend Hallie that the wish made by his wife was one of the most complex and insidious she had ever granted.

Rasputin was a sorcerer and something of a mesmerer, using his unusually compelling eyes to lead suggestible people into a sort of trance. Even he had no notion of Halfrek's true nature, however.

Some close friends of the Czarina had introduced the "monk" to her Imperial Majesty proclaiming him a healer of great power. The Czarina was beside herself with a secret worrry. Her baby boy, so long desired and heir to the throne, was born with her family's hidden illness, hemophilia.

Alexei was a beautiful but dangerously frail boy, prone to bleeding uncontrollably from the smallest of injuries. Cecily's old friend had virtually shut herself off from even her family, spending long hours in her lovely mauve bedchamber and seeing almost no one except her children and her beloved husband, her "Dovey". The royal couple were rare in their love for each other and their offspring.

The monk Rasputin had seemingly performed the miracle of curing the smallest Romanov. As the worried parents relied more and more on the healer, the nation began to worry that Russia herself would pay the price for his "advice" on ALL matters of state. This peasant was rapidly making policy, policy that could only lead to disaster for all parties concerned, indeed all the peoples of Russia. Anyanka's eyes had shone with glee in laying out the eventual outcome to her friend Hallie.

Cecily felt bad for her old friend the Czarina and had tried to drop warnings her way. The result had been a severing of all ties with the widowed Grand Duchess. No one was more important to the Czarina than her family and the man she believed held their small son's very life in his rough peasant hands. Well, Cecily had tried, it would be on their heads alone.

Cecily was preparing to vacate Russia and join her family back in England. This night she and Anyanka had been guests at a ball when Anyanka's small revolution broke into their reality.

The two vengeance demons sat at the table and finished their delicious Merlot as, all around them, men and women died in various violent ways. Cecily was a bit surprised to realize she truly had no real emotional reaction to what she witnessed. Her only emotion was surprise to find Anyanka subscribed to the agenda of the Marxists that Cecily's late husband had tried to eradicate prior to his untimely death. Sergi would be turning over in his grave if he could see her and her dear friend now. Both of them spattered in the blood of good Russian nobility, smiling and laughing at the dinner table as Russia burned.

Anyanka would be moving to Germany and then the Balkans in the next few days. There were wronged women crying for her assistance and Russia was starting to become much too warm for a change. As vengence demons, they would, of course, be able to teleport for visits on occassion.

Hallie had decided her powers could best be used in aiding children whose parents, especially fathers, had behaved badly. There were even more of these needing a vengence demon than wronged women. She would be vigorous in tending their needs while "Cecily" would enjoy her delightful son as they settled into British society.

Misha loved his school and was doing well. He would spend his holidays with her in London and board during the school term, as any well-bred British gentleman in the making would do. This gave Cecily time to be Halfrek and do her duty. Finally, Cecily had found her true place in the world, her calling.

She thought back to the results of her second, and last, impulsive wish on the gypsy stone. The sequence of events set into motion after her wish was so impressive that D'Hoffryn had made her one of his girls and set her to work immediately. She had left such a path of destruction and misery using only two wishes that he was certain she would be supremely effective with minimal training. He had been right. It was a job she had been born to fill.

Her father had learned how it felt to never quite measure up, to always want and to be let down. The widow he had placed all his hopes on marrying had left him at the altar. She took with her his political connections and a substantial amount of his fortune as well. From that point on, he encountered disappointment after disappointment. Business deals came ever so close to righting his finances only to fall through in the end. Friendships that he trusted turned to betrayal and isolation.

Even sweet Esme, his eldest daughter, had distanced herself from him when one of his increasingly desperate schemes had nearly cost her husband both his family business and his life. Esme dearly loved her husband and had never been particularily close to her father, so the choice was not too difficult for her to make.

The choice of words Cecily had used in making the wish also led to the tragic circumstance surrounding her father's death. When she had said, "have those around you withhold what you crave the most", she had no idea that what he eventually would crave the most was life-saving medicine that his overworked housekeeper delayed giving to him in time to save his life.

The housekeeper had felt horrible about his death until the reading of his will proved that she was completely overlooked. She would be homeless, jobless and in no manner provided for. Even her final wages owed had taken a year to collect.

The final bit of vengeance came when Ezra's grave marker arrived and they found that the stone carver had erred in the spelling of his name. No one chose to pay the cost of correcting it! Thus Ekra Adans, Baron Underwood lay, if not in peace, at least in the ground.

Cecily had truly a natural gift for revenge. Halfrek merely built upon it.

Chapter 8 - _A Mother's Hope  
>London - 1911<em>

Cecily was anxiously awaiting the arrival of Michael, as Misha was now called. His time would be all hers for the summer, he had promised. He was a fine, handsome, sturdy lad of sixteen years. He still adored his mother but had begun to spend more time with his set of friends on his visits home. Youth never really changed from generation to generation, Cecily thought.

Thoughts of Michael always led to fond smiles for his mamma. He was all anyone could hope for in a son. He was a full two years ahead of his age group at school. He was already at University, a "prodigy" the Deans concurred. He was larger than most sixteen-year-olds as well, but graceful nontheless. He had little of his father's features, yet he was a fine masculine specimen by any definition. All the young women eagerly awaited his visits to London.

Michael was popular among both genders of his friends. He had wonderful courtly manners that were guaranteed to make the girls feel respected yet treasured. He was quite the sportsman and an affable friend to the males in his set.

He even caught the eye, not to mention turned the heads of, women much older than he. Cecily had found it necessary to set more than one lady straight regarding HER plans for Michael's education and his teachers. Women were becoming shockingly brazen in this new century. Fortunately Michael had his mother nearby to ensure no one took untoward advantage of his trusting nature.

Halfrek had proved to be all that her patron D'Hoffryn could have hoped. She had an impressive list of creative wishes granted, mostly to children in need of some vengeance. Only D'Hoffryn's favorite, Anyanka, had a more impressive record.

Hallie had continued her friendship with Anyanka. The two had even worked together in a few cases. No matter how busy their respective lives became, they made sure to stay in close touch.

Cecily enjoyed all three of her lives: Cecily, the loving mother and society hostess respected by all; Halfrek, the vengeance demon who showed no mercy to worthless parents and righted their many wrongs; and Hallie the loyal, carefree, friend. She felt fulfilled for the first time in her life. She also felt needed, appreciated, powerful and free.

She had a lovely home, warm and wonderful friends, a challenging and rewarding career, a devoted son and full control over every aspect of her life.

Cecily knew that Michael was going to one day meet a girl and marry. She realized that his title and lands would one day lead him back to Russia. But all of that was for later, much later! She had begun to closely scrutinize the young ladies among his friends. She knew it would take a special sort of girl to survive the sort of life that Michael's birth would require of them both. He might be only sixteen, but time seemed to speed by and a mother had to be prepared for the inevitable. Soon he would be a man and one that Cecily would be proud of always.

It was because of this awareness that she had nearly begged him to indulge his mamma this summer. Instead of staying in London and reconnecting with his friends as in all the years past, they were going on a trip to the Continent. Mother and son would explore the capitals of Europe. They would study the art and architecture, explore the different foods and customs. In short, she would have her sweet boy all to herself one last time.

Michael had no notion that his mother was quite familiar with most of the places they would see. He knew nothing of Halfrek or her comings and goings. Teleporting made it a simple matter to keep such movements over long distances a secret, even from a beloved son.

He marveled at the continued youthfulness of his beautiful mother. Most boys thought of their mothers as lovely, but Cecily truly had not aged, nor would she. Halfrek was ageless. Cecily wasn't sure how she would handle that complication but trusted all would be well. She really didn't need to worry about such matters at this stage.

_**Rome, Italy - 1911 **_

The trip had been delightful for both Cecily and Michael. Her son had made friends everywhere they went and Rome was no exception.

In fact, one friendship would have worried Cecily had it not been doomed by virtue of the children's respective homes.

Michael had seen Elizabeth Matthews as she toured the Colosseum with her family when he was sightseeing with his mother.

Elizabeth was a year older than Michael. She was really a lovely girl, inside and out. She was shy, sensitive and polite. She was also astonishingly beautiful with masses of deep auburn hair and the greenest eyes the Yevtochenko pair had ever seen. She was tiny, her head barely reaching Michael's chest, yet already well-rounded in a womanly way.

She was well bred and sturdy in spite of her delicate appearance. In a few years she might have been just the sort of girl Cecily would want Michael to give his heart to. Not at his age, of course. Had they but met at another time, in the future...well, it scarcely mattered as she would no doubt meet and marry a fellow countryman before Michael was ready to choose a bride.

Miss Matthews was from a place called Vermont in the United States. Her father was a wealthy businessman and her mother was a leader in society, well respected throughout New England. Elizabeth was intelligent and surprisingly well-educated for a girl, attending a women's university in Pennsylvania.

A lovely girl, it was almost a shame the timing was so wrong as she would have made a delightful Grand Duchess.

Michael was truly smitten with Elizabeth and before he left for Madrid, they had exchanged directives for mailing one another as well as a promise to see each other again at Christmas when she would be in London. Cecily suspected they had also exchanged a stolen kiss or two, but a mother should not pry into a boy's _every_experience.

The rest of the summer continued in the pleasant and peaceful way that it had started. Michael collected various items along the way that he felt Elizabeth might enjoy when he next saw her in London. Cecily added to her already impressive art collection choosing from the best that each country had to offer.

_**Paris, France - 1911 **_

On the return trip, they had arranged to meet her old friend Anyanka (or Aunt Ann, as Michael knew her) in Paris. Halfrek took some time while Michael explored the Louvre to join Anyanka in a bit of business that could not wait. Justice could not be expected to take an entire summer off, Cecily supposed.

Cecily noted that Anyanka had looked at Michael in an altogether too appreciative way upon seeing him for the first time since childhood. Cecily's friend was not above offering herself as a tutor of sorts to a handsome, virile young man.

Michael's mother determined that she would not be inviting her old friend for any visits when Michael was home in the future. Some things one did NOT permit when offering hospitality to a friend. And some friends were easier kept at a distance.

Claiming homesickness, Cecily decided rather abruptly that their holiday should come to a close a week early.. Mother and son would spend the rest of his free time at home where he would be safe. Soon enough he would return to Oxford and all would be well between she and Anyanka again.

Lord D'Hoffryn would support Halfrek in this as the last thing he wanted was to have his two best vengeance demons seeking ways to harm one another. Things like that were bad for business.

Chapter 9 -_ And By Their Deeds You Shall Know Them  
>London - 1912<em>

Cecily was hosting a small dinner party for some of the more fashionable of the ladies of her acquaintance. She didn't entertain as often as she liked, but her secret work schedule made it a bit difficult to arrange time for pleasure.

The last gathering she had undertaken had been nearly four months previous when the lovely Matthews girl had joined the Christmas festivities of the Yevtochenko mother and son. Elizabeth had been quite taken by the traditions that mingled British and Russian customs and foods.

Clearly Elizabeth and Michael still were attracted to one another and had spent the time apart in a flurry of correspondence. They were inseparable.

Cecily liked the girl but was thanking the dark lords that she lived across the Atlantic from Michael.

Cecily was rushing to and fro with the last minute details familiar to anyone who has ever played hostess to high sticklers and gossips. Everything had to be perfect and Cecily was determined it would be.

She was so engrossed in the seating arrangements that she had not heard the door open and her long time butler approaching. Hobbs coughed discreetly and begged madame's pardon. He had been handed a telegram sent from Master Michael and knew that she would want it immediately.

Cecily took the paper from her butler's hand and felt an inexplicable stab of fear as she began to read. People rarely sent telegrams containing good news and this certainly was true to form.

Cecily read aloud softly,_**"MOTHER DEAREST STOP NOW I AM A MAN STOP HAVE CHOSEN TO WED STOP KNOW YOU LOVE ELIZABETH STOP AM ON MY WAY TO ASK FOR HER HAND STOP EMBARKED FOR NEW YORK THIS DAY STOP TAKING NEW WHITE STAR BEAUTY NAMED TITANIC STOP LOVE YOUR DEVOTED SON MICHAEL STOP****"**_

Mother Dearest was not pleased at all but consoled herself that he would return in a few weeks and she could talk sense into him then. Young men could be so rash in the heat of hormones and Yevtochenko men always had raging hormones. She marveled, "how quickly they do grow up!" and laughed lightly.

She rather envied her son for his wide-eyed romantic notions. She envied him the trip as well. Much had been written of the luxury ship he was now, no doubt, enjoying. Why, some of the very people she would normally be entertaining were taking this maiden trip on the most modern marvel of shipbuilding to grace the Atlantic.

Cecily smiled at the thought of her little boy off on his first real adventure alone, a grown man at seventeen! She needn't worry, she had prepared Michael's future with care and all would be as it should.

~fin


End file.
